


The Disappearing Act

by Dramione1864



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anorexia, Anorexic Hermione, Depression, Eating Disorder, Eventual Romance, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fred Weasley Lives, Fred is alive, Love, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Hermione Granger, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, dramione - Freeform, head boy draco, hermione is head girl
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 04:36:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11866854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dramione1864/pseuds/Dramione1864
Summary: After the battle, Hermione and the rest of her year return to Hogwarts. Things should be easy, perfect even, but Hermione's hiding a secret, one that has the power to completely destroy her. Will she be able to fight her demons on her own, or will she need help from the last person she'd expect? Potential trigger warning - strong themes of anorexia and depression, Fred's alive a/u





	1. Chapter One

Chapter one

The room was quiet. So quiet, in fact, that it would have been silent, were it not for the soft creaks of the floorboards and the harsh, uneven breaths that filled it.

Despite the intense ache in her stomach, Hermione refused to give up. She had promised herself that she would complete at least 100 sit-ups that morning, as part of her new diet. It was during the final battle that Hermione had realised her fitness was not up to scratch. She had found herself short of breath at the most inopportune moments, and had vowed to herself once it was all over that she would sort out the problem.

In many ways, it was a coping mechanism, and she knew that. It was far easier for her to do one hundred sit-ups than it was for her to think about all of the people she had lost. Remus, Tonks, Mad-eye – and so the list went on. She didn't think she would have been able to cope had Madame Pomfrey not been able to heal Fred after that wall fell on top of him. Unfortunately, though, she couldn't do as much to help Percy. At least he had gone out in a blaze of glory, tracking down the Death Eater whom he held responsible for almost killing his brother, Thicknesse. Unfortunately for Percy, when he finally found him, Thicknesse was surrounded by other Death Eaters. Capable wizard that he was, Percy was no match for 5 dark wizards.

The Weasleys were distraught, Molly especially. It was horrible enough that her son had been killed, but she couldn't help but blame herself for Percy's prior estrangement, despite her entire family trying their hardest to reassure her that she had done nothing wrong. Hermione wasn't sure if she would ever be able to forgive herself for missing out on the last few years of her son's life.

After the battle, Hermione returned home. Thankfully she was able to locate her parents and restore their memory within a matter of days, with the help of Kingsly and other members of the order. Within a week everything was running smoothly – or, as smoothly as it possibly could be.

Despite putting on a brave face, the past few months had had immeasurable effects on Hermione. If she was lucky enough to get to sleep at all, she would inevitably have nightmares about her time in Malfoy Manor. It would seem that the psychological effects of Bellatrix's work might even be as permanent as the slur engraved in her forearm.

Hermione lay back on the floor, having completed her exercise for the day. This fitness boost was just what she needed. A chance to better herself, physically. She had always harboured insecurities about her body. She didn't suppose the frumpy school uniform helped much either, but she had always felt like she was on the tubbier side, not enough to be classed as fat, but definitely enough to be seen as unattractive. As strange as it was, the best Hermione had felt about her body in recent years was round about the time of the battle. She thought that it was because of all the time spent camping, and on the run. She'd been getting plenty of exercise, and food supply had been limited, consisting mostly of berries, when they could even eat at all.

Obviously, she knew that not eating was a silly thing to do, so Hermione was sure that she did eat – although it was mainly salads, and the occasional soup. Only, without her noticing, the portions seemed to have been getting smaller and smaller. Hermione simply put it down to her stomach shrinking. It made sense, didn't it? Her stomach was finally returning to its proper size, after years of it being over-stuffed.

A knock on the door drew Hermione from her thoughts.

She scrambled from the floor and quickly got into her bed, she didn't know why, but she didn't quite want her mother knowing about her dieting yet.

"Come in." she called, once she was properly under the covers, with a book in hand

Her mother opened the door, gave her a smile, and went to sit on the end of the bed.

"Still in bed dear? Its 12:30, and I was wondering what you wanted for breakfast. I was thinking I might make pancakes."

Hermione cursed inside her head. Her mum's homemade pancakes were probably her favourite food of all time. She could feel her mouth watering at the thought alone.

"That's ok, mum. Thanks though," She added with a smile.

"Really?" her mother asked, surprised. "what will you have? It's really no trouble for me to make them."

"Honestly, mum, I'm fine. I'm going to go to Diagon Alley today to get my books for school, and Harry, Ron, Ginny and I are going to grab lunch together. Knowing Ron, that will be as soon as we get there."

"well, alright then. What time are you supposed to be there? I can give you a lift if you want?"

"Thanks, mum, but that's alright. I'll just use the floo."

Jane smiled softly, "Ah, yes, that's right. Me and my muggle way of thinking…" she stood up from Hermione's bed and made her way over to the door. "Well, I ought to leave you to get ready then, don't want to make you late."

"Thanks, mum, see you later." And with that, Jane Granger left the room, shutting the door behind her, leaving Hermione once again alone with her thoughts.

She didn't like lying. It made her feel too guilty, especially when it was to someone she cared about, and she knew cared about her. But there were some things worth lying for. She hadn't planned on going to Diagon alley that day, but she didn't see any harm in doing so, so she picked herself out of bed and started towards the bathroom. She turned on the shower, and whilst waiting for it to heat up, she decided that she might as well weigh herself, just to see if her efforts in the past couple of weeks had paid off. For the last couple of years, Hermione's weight had yo-yoed around 145 lbs and 140 lbs. For a girl of her height (5"7), that put her BMI somewhere around 23, which, to her knowledge, was somewhere around the upper end of the healthy sector. Hermione simply thought that she would try and get her BMI to the lower end of healthy, somewhere around 18 or 19, and then she would stop.

She turned around to face the scales, and took off her clothes, making sure not to glimpse herself in the mirror. She took a deep breath to try and calm her nerves, and then finally, after what had felt like hours of hesitation, stepped on them.

She looked down, and was confused by the number she saw. Assuming there had been some sort of error with the scales, she got off and repeated the process. But the same number was displayed. 138.3 lbs. Hermione turned around, eager to see what difference 7lbs had made to her body, but was thoroughly let down when she saw that there was no difference what-so-ever. If anything, she thought she looked worse. Sighing, she stepped into the shower. She was foolish for expecting to actually see a difference already. She suspected that wouldn't start to happen until she reached something in the order of 130lbs.

Pushing all thoughts of weight loss from her mind, Hermione began to plan the day ahead of her. She hadn't actually heard much from Ron or Harry since the battle. She knew that they were both at the burrow, though. From what she had heard from Harry, Ron was still unsure of how to cope with the loss of a brother, and Ginny was no better. Hermione understood why Harry wanted to be there, in fact, she would be too, were it not for the fact that she really had no idea how to act around Ron anymore. They had kissed during the battle, but he had made zero effort to contact her since. Of course, Hermione had understood that initially. She wasn't sure she would be much in the mood for flirting if a member of her family had been killed, so she had decided that she would owl him first instead. And so, she did. She had gotten no reply, however, and had come to the conclusion that the owl must have lost the letter. So she tried again, and again, and again, until she was absolutely certain that there was no error with the postal system, but that Ron was simply ignoring her. She had owled Harry, asking if he knew why he wasn't replying, but Harry had sent back a rather brief owl, saying that he hadn't a clue. Hermione, unsure if she believed him, had come to the conclusion that perhaps Ron had regretted their kiss, and whilst that had hurt her initially, she understood that after everything that had happened to him, Ron was more than entitled to want some time alone.

Hermione climbed out of the shower and went to towel dry her hair, not feeling particularly bothered with how it looked, after all, she was only going book shopping. By the time she was dressed and ready to leave, she had made up her mind in regards to Harry and Ron. She wasn't going to ask them to meet with her, but if she saw them in Diagon Alley she would definitely go over to them, and it wasn't that unlikely that they would be there, being that there was only a week left until the holiday was over.

Hogwarts had decided to redo the final year for all of the students who had missed out on it. The solution that they had come up with was to have Hermione's year go back as the 8th year. Thankfully, due to all of the reparations already taking place in the castle, it wasn't too much hassle for a couple of new rooms to be added to the dorms, to make room for the extra students. Hermione, however, would not be staying in the Gryffindor common room, as she had been chosen to be head girl! She was incredibly honoured, of course, and couldn't wait to find out who the head boy was. She suspected that it might be Neville, but she knew that was wishful thinking. Especially now, after the war, Hogwarts was going to want to try and promote inter-house unity, which meant that the chances of Head boy and Head girl both being in Gryffindor were extremely slim. The best she could hope for was Ravenclaw. Terry Boot, maybe.

Throwing on her coat, Hermione made her way into the living room, saying a quick goodbye to her mum before hopping into the fireplace and calling out, "The Leaky Cauldron."

As soon as she arrived, she headed straight for Flourish and Blotts, her favourite shop. As soon as she stepped through the door she realised how much she had missed it, and how glad she was to be back in the wizarding world. She started wandering aimlessly through the isles for a bit, there being no need for her to rush things, and by the time she had come to the end of the first isle, she already had about 10 books stacked in her arms (she only needed one of them for Hogwarts). Realising that she had to focus on the task at hand now, or else she would run out of galleons, Hermione somehow managed to one-handedly fish out her book list from her pocket and began reading it whilst walking through the next isle. Hermione had added three more books to her pile when suddenly, she found herself colliding with a tall, hard mass.

"I am so sorry!", Hermione muttered, completely flustered as she scrambled to pick up all of her books. She had yet to look up at the poor innocent bystander she had needlessly charged into, out of sheer embarrassment.

She didn't have to look after she heard his next words.

"Granger." He spat, "I should have known. You need to watch where you're going, mudblood. Good thing you've caught me in a good mood today, or this might have ended rather differently for you."

And with that, he simply walked away, being sure to kick one of Hermione's books under the shelf as he did so.

"Slimy git…" Hermione muttered to herself, filled with rage as she moved closer to the bookshelf to stick her hand under. Just as she'd managed to reach it, however, the book flew out of her reach.

Assuming that Malfoy had come back to taunt her some more, a furious Hermione turned around, her wand drawn. But much to her surprise, instead of seeing Malfoy holding her book with an infuriating sneer, she had come face to face with Fred and George Weasley.

"Careful there, Hermione," George chastised.

"You'll poke someone's eye out with that thing." Added Fred, with a grin.

Hermione immediately put her wand back into her pocket and ran over to hug to the two boys. "Fred! George! It's been so long! How are you?"

"We're brilliant, Hermione" answered Fred

"Perfect, in fact." Added George.

"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes has been doing better than ever after the war; everyone's been so miserable for so long now that they're all desperate for a good laugh."

"Speaking of, we wanted to ask you if we could borrow your mind for a couple of hours. We were hoping you could lend us a hand perfecting a new shampoo we're working on. It's supposed to make all of your hair fall out for a couple of hours and then grow back fully. The first part works really well! It's just the second bit we're having trouble with…"

Hermione laughed, "Of course I'd be happy to help. It's nice to see you two havn't changed." She added, sincerely. She had worried that Fred's near death experience would have made him see life more seriously, and that he would lose the fun streak Hermione loved about him. Thankfully, it didn't seem that was the case.

"Us? Change?" said George, affronted, "Never!"

"It seems we're not the only ones either…" Said Fred, looking in the direction Malfoy had stormed off.

Hermione sighed, "Well, what did you expect? So what he had a change of heart towards the end of the war? It takes a lot more than 5 minutes' worth of forward thinking to erase an entire lifetime of the exact opposite."

"I suppose you're right Hermione." Muttered George.

"As always." Added Fred.

"But, that doesn't put him above retribution, now does it?"

Hermione laughed and shook her head, "Whatever you two are planning, I want no part of it!"

The twins grinned at her, before turning towards each other to start scheming. Hermione carried on with her book shopping, the twins trailing closely behind, hearing snippets of their conversation the whole time.

"A simple summoning spell…"

"Swap his for ours…"

"Can't wait to see the look on the slimy bald git's face…"


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter Two.** _

"So, what exactly is the problem with this again?" Hermione asked, staring over the top of a cauldron of bubbling, green, gloop.

"Its effects are too strong," answered Fred. They had left Flourish and Blotts and headed straight to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, where Fred and George had led Hermione into the back room, where they worked on new inventions. The twins were both standing on the opposite side of the desk to Hermione, their tall frames looming over hers. "We've had the same problem with a couple of other products too, but we're hoping that if you help us fix this, then we can copy when you do and fix everything else."

Hermione smirked, "You know, I'm starting to think all you Weasleys want me for are my brains."

George staggered backwards, his had flying to his heart. "Why, Hermione! I'm offended! We like you for lots of other things!" He said, grinning.

"Oh yeah? Name three things." She challenged, whist adding a sprinkle of crushed mandrake leaves to the cauldron and stirring it.

"Your sense of humour," Said Fred.

"Your bravery and resilience," added George.

"And your patience for putting up with our idiot brother for so many years." Finished Fred.

Hermione looked up from the cauldron and sighed at the pair, "Oh, come on, Ron's not so bad. You lot are too harsh on him."

"You're too soft." George taunted.

Rolling her eyes, she looked back into the cauldron and started stirring again, trying to ignore the unwanted connotations that statement held to her body.

After about 5 minutes of continuous stirring and the occasional sprinkling of various powders, the contents of the cauldron finally turned the light lilac colour Hermione had been hoping for.

She stepped away from the cauldron proudly, "there you go, boys, that should do it."

"Hermione," Said Fred, "You're a life saver."

"Seriously," said George, "you really saved our butts here, we owe you one."

"You don't even know if it works yet!" She said, although fairly confident it would.

"Oh, C'mon Hermione, of course it will."

"Well, I'm certainly not going to volunteer to be your tester."

Fred and George both started to laugh, but they were soon cut short when a rather frazzled Lee Jordan ran into the room.

"Fred… George…" He panted, "one of the fireworks has been set off - no idea who did it - but its running wild, knocking over all of the other products!" He spotted Hermione as he turned to leave the room, and gave her a quick wave before taking a deep breath and re-entering the main shop.

"Well, we best be off." Said George, an excited smile on his face as though he was thrilled at the idea of a dragon shaped fire running amuck among his shop.

"I can help if you want, I cou-"

"Nonsense, Hermione." Interrupted Fred, "You've done more than enough to help us today, you can leave through the back door."

"Are you sure?" she asked, not wanting to leave the twins to deal with this by themselves.

"Absolutely." They both said with complete conviction. And with that, they both made their way through the door, wands in hand and grins on their faces.

She was so glad that the twins were as big of a success as they were and if anyone deserved success, Hermione thought, it was the Weasley family. After trying her best to smooth down her hair after staring into a steaming cauldron, she left the room through the rickety, wooden door the twins had pointed towards and headed home, happy with how her day had turned out.

-

Sat in the car on the way to Kings Cross station, Hermione was a complete and utter nervous wreck. Her right leg was bouncing uncontrollably, a tendency she had accidently picked up from her father.

"Hermione, dear, you'll be fine!" Said her mother, trying her hardest to calm her down, "You have nothing to worry about, and it's your last year, so I want you to try and find tome for some fun, okay? Your father and I are so proud of how hard you work, but we both think that you deserve a break from it after everything you did last year."

Hermione smiled, "Thanks, mum, that really means a lot, and I'll try and take it easy, I promise."

She knew fully well that that wasn't going to happen, Hermione had no plans to start slacking on her work now she was so close to the end of school, and about to embark on her NEWTs (the most important tests of her life), but she appreciated her mother's concern nonetheless.

Hermione's main worry was finding out who the head boy was going to be. She had a horrible feeling that she knew exactly who it was, after all, what would do a better job of promoting inter house unity than Gryffindor's princess and Slytherin's Prince having to share a dorm. She really, really hoped she was wrong though. She wasn't sure she could take it if she was right – hell, she would even consider turning in her badge.

After a few more minutes of easy conversation between her and her mother, the car rolled up outside the station, and Hermione got out.

"Bye, mum! I'll see you soon!"

"Bye, Hermione! Do try to have some fun this year, please, and come back for Christmas if you can!"

"I will!" She lied, deciding to let her mother think she had won. And with that, Hermione grabbed her trunk and Crookshank's cage, and started towards platform 9 ¾.

As soon as she saw the train, all of the stress and anxiety she had been feeling left her. Regardless of who she would have to live with, she would be going back to Hogwarts, her favourite place in the world. She scanned the platform, looking for any of her friends, and finally her eyes landed on Neville. She called his name, and he looked over towards her. When he finally spotted her, a huge smile spread across his face and he made his way through the crowds of anxious first years to come and stand with her.

"Hermione! How are you?" He asked, after giving her a hug, excited to be around his friend after so long.

"I'm great Neville, I'm so relieved to be back. How about you?"

Neville looked considerably older than the last time she had seen him. She supposed the last year must have aged him a lot. He seemed to carry himself with a great deal more confidence than he ever had before, and Hermione decided that it was a good look for him.

"I couldn't be better, 'Mione! I can't quite believe that we're going back to Hogwarts, _real_ Hogwarts _._ There were times last year when I actually started to lose hope that we would ever see the day that the castle wasn't under the rule of Death Eaters. I can't tell you how glad I am just to be here, at the train station!"

Hermione smiled, thrilled to see Neville so happy. She had been so impressed to find that Neville had lead the resistance last year, but not that surprised. Neville had always shown tremendous courage. Perhaps not in the way one might expect it to be shown – through recklessness and impulsiveness - but sort of a moral bravery. Even in first year Neville had been willing to stand up to Hermione, Harry and Ron because he thought that what they were doing was wrong, so it was no surprise that when the Carrows introduced torturing first years to the curriculum, Neville had a few things to say.

"Have you seen the others?" She asked, knowing that Neville would know who she meant.

"No, sorry. I was just about to go and have a look for them on the train though. Want to come?" he offered.

"Sure!" she replied, "Let's go!" whilst they were boarding the train, Hermione told Neville that she had been chosen as Head girl, and was desperately hoping that he would reply with a grin, letting her know that he was head boy too, or at least he knew who was. Of course, that didn't happen. He was still more than happy for her though, giving her another hug and congratulating her.

"So, you have no idea who head boy's going to be?" he asked.

"Unfortunately not… although part of me thinks it's going to be a Slytherin." She left out exactly which Slytherin she suspected.

"Gods, Hermione. For your sake, I hope not."

"Me too, Neville. Me too."

After about five minutes they finally stumbled upon the compartment that housed her friends. Neville went in first, closely followed by Hermione. The small, cosy space immediately erupted in cheers at their arrival, and the pair received hugs from everyone. When Ron hugged her, Hermione thought that perhaps he had lingered a second or two linger than necessary, but quickly dismissed it as 'wishful thinking', not wanting to set herself up for a fall.

After a few minutes of catching up, Hermione excused herself from the compartment and headed towards her meeting with McGonagall. No one was really surprised that Hermione had received the honour of being Head Girl, and they were almost as curious as her as to the identity of the Head boy – if that were even possible. She was filled to the brim with nervous anticipation, and felt that her feet were made of led as she took the first few steps towards the train's end carriage.

She was both pleased and irritated to find it empty. Sure that she was on time, she really hoped that this was a one off and that her new co-head wasn't the type to show up late to everything. She knew she would already have enough to be getting on with this year without having to wait around for someone. She sat down in one of the many empty spaces, and waited.

A couple of minutes later, the door opened and Hermione looked up excitedly, only to see Professor McGonagall walk in. Her eyes surveyed the otherwise empty room and she shook her head very slightly.

"I had hoped that if I waited a few minutes before joining you two, you would both definitely be here…" she said, with a barely detectable amount of disappointment in her tone. 'Oh well. I suppose there's nothing to do but wait for our Head boy to arrive."

She sat down in one of the seats opposite Hermione.

"It's good to see you, Miss. Granger. How was your summer? Relaxing, I hope." She said warmly.

"It was lovely, thank you professor." Normally, Hermione would be delighted to have one on one time with her favourite teacher, but right now she had other things on her mind. "Sorry, Professor, but seeing as how I'm about to find out anyway, could you please tell me who the head boy is?"

McGonagall smiled at her softly shaking her head. "I'm afraid I can't Hermione. But you're a clever girl, I'm sure you can figure it out for yourself."

Just as she was about to inform her Professor that she would much rather just be told, and eliminate any possible error on her part, when the door swung open and in sauntered none other than Draco Malfoy.

The minute Hermione made eye contact with him, she lost control – anger swelling up inside of her. "For fucks sake!" she half shouted, only to find that the exact same thing had happened on the other side of the room.

"Miss Granger! Mr Malfoy! I will not have that sort of language spoken! Especially not from our new head students!" McGonagall said harshly.

Hermione blushed, feeling rather ashamed of her sudden lack of restraint, "sorry Professor." She mumbled. Malfoy said nothing. He only moved over to the seat furthest away from Hermione and sat down.

"I knew that there would be complications with this arrangement," Began McGonagall, "But this is what is best for the school. And as Head students and prefects, I expect you to handle this responsibly."

Hermione wanted to say that perhaps it wasn't very responsible make two people who had loathed each other for the last seven years share a small dorm together, but she held her tongue.

When no one said anything, McGonagall sighed and continued. "I know that neither of you find this ideal – "

Malfoy snorted.

"But," she continued, in a slightly louder and more agitated voice now, "You will simply have to get over it. Lord knows there have been a few members of staff over the years that have rubbed me the wrong way, but I handled it maturely. And that's exactly what you two must do, or I'll revoke your badges. Okay?" She looked at both of them with a stern look on her face, awaiting an answer.

"Okay." Said Hermione quietly.

Draco remained silent for what felt like a minute, until McGonagall said, "Think carefully about what you're about to do Mr Malfoy. It matters."

If possible, Hermione thought Draco seemed to get even angrier at these words, but to her surprise, he bit out a short, resentful "ok" before turning to look out of the window and, Hermione was sure, pretend none of this was really happening, just as she was tempted to do herself.

* * *

**Please Review!**


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

* * *

The rest of the train journey was uncomfortable to say the least. McGonagall had bid Draco and Hermione stay in their carriage until they had to change into their robes, so that they could greet and instruct the chosen prefects for that year, a task which Draco clearly thought Hermione could manage on her own. He spent the entirety of the train ride looking out of the window with his jaw clenched, fury obviously racketing though his body.

Hermione didn't dare provoke him by asking him to help. It wasn't that she was scared of Malfoy at all, she never had been and she prided herself on it. She just didn't want to make the next year of her life any harder than it had to be.

When the surrounding areas started looking increasingly familiar, Hermione assumed that they were nearing Hogwarts. She got up and headed towards the door in order to change into her robes.

"Slacking off on your duties as Head Girl already, Granger?" Malfoy sneered, "Off to see those invalids you surround yourself with I suppose."

Hermione could feel her anger rising and the hypocrisy of it all. Malfoy hadn't lifted a finger for hours and she had been the one who had been left to deal with gormless Fifth Years bursting at the seams to abuse their newfound prefect powers. She inwardly cursed his ability to do his to her with just a couple of sentences and balled her hands up at her sides, remembering McGonagall's warning.

She took a deep breath before responding, "Actually, _Malfoy_ ," as hard as she tried, she couldn't quite stop the resentment from seeping into her voice, "I was just going to change into my robes. In case you haven't noticed – which, by the way, I highly doubt as all you've done since you've been in this carriage is stare petulantly out of that window – we're almost there."

She braced herself for Malfoy's retort, but he just looked uninterestedly away from her and back towards the window, as if she wasn't even worth his aggravation. Ironically, that only served to rile her up more. But, resisting the temptation to pull out her wand and throw a full body bind his way, she turned around and stormed out of the carriage.

Despite knowing that she needed to get changed, she headed straight for the carriage filled with her friends. Her mind was racing with the injustice of this decision. How could McGonagall do this to her? Hermione had always thought she was one of the professor's favourites! She threw open the door angrily.

All four heads snapped immediately towards the intrusion, and Harry's hand hovered about his robe pocket, but as soon as they registered that it was Hermione, they relaxed.

"'Mione?" Harry asked, concern tinting his voice, "What's wrong?"

Her friends all looked at her with such worry and concern that it pushed her over the edge. Why couldn't one of them be head boy? She could understand Harry, and even Ron, but why not Neville?

"Malfoy's head boy." She said slowly, afraid that if she didn't take deliberate efforts, she would have shouted it so loudly that the entire train would here. Despite her best efforts, she felt a tear streak down her face, and would have wiped it away, but before she got the chance, she'd been engulfed by Harry, who did it for her.

He patted her back soothingly and tried to calm her down, as her tears were now a constant flow. She silently cursed herself for crying in public, she usually tried to avoid that at all costs, but she just couldn't contain how angry and upset she was.

"Malfoy?" asked Ron, seemingly incensed. "what the fuck was McGonagall thinking?"

Hermione broke away from Harry, having finally stifled her tears and sniffled. "Don't blame McGonagall, Ron. I'm sure she has her reasons; however insane they might seem."

"Yeah but 'Mione, you'll have to live with that bastard! You'll have to be around him 24/7! Oh, god you'll probably even have to share a bathroom with him! And you-"

Thankfully, harry interrupted him, "Ron, mate, I think she gets it."

Ron's cheeks reddened slightly, "Oh – er - yeah, sorry, 'Mione."

Hermione smiled at him as best she could, "It's alright Ron," She sighed, "there's no point in pretending that this isn't going to be absolutely awful…"

"Oh, I don't know about that Hermione," Ginny spoke up, "You'll have the opportunity to make his last year of Hogwarts as awful as he made your first six!"

Harry smiled crookedly and looked over to Ginny. It would have been hard to miss the loving gleam in his eyes as he did so. "Maybe Ginny has a point, you know."

Hermione sighed, "That's enough of that, you two. I've already been warned by McGonagall that unless both of us do our very best to ease tensions, we risk losing our positions. And I don't know about you, but I wouldn't put Malfoy above ratting me out."

Ron shook his head sympathetically. "I suppose you're right, Hermione… Still, you only have to sleep in your dorm room, right? Other than that, you can spend all your time in Gryffindor tower with us."

Hermione smiled a little at the thought of this. She hadn't considered the fact that she would still be welcome in her old common room, for some reason she'd thought that having to sleep in the same dorm as Draco Malfoy would also mean having to spend her every waking hour with the stuck-up brat.

She took a deep, calming breath. "That's actually made me feel way better, Ron. Thanks."

"No problem, 'Mione." He replied,

There were a few rather awkward moments of silence following this, until Neville thankfully broke it.

He turned his head from the window and said, "Hermione, we're almost at the castle, I would get changed into my robes if I were you."

"Oh!" in all the excitement of telling her friends the news she had completely forgotten to get changed, and If she left it any longer she would certainly be late. "Thank you for reminding me, Neville!" she called behind her as she dashed out of the door and towards the bathrooms.

* * *

Draco watched from his seat as the first years fled the train, bubbling with excitement at the novelty of starting their lives at Hogwarts. He scoffed. Try as he might, he couldn't remember a time when he had ever been so foolishly eager to enter that castle. Of course, in his first year there had been some level of excitement present within him, but he never showed it off so frivolously – Malfoys were above such things.

Things were different now. Draco felt nothing but dread and reluctance as he looked at the swarms of students in front of him. As soon as he stepped off this train it would be all eyes on him, yet again. It seemed there was nothing quite as exciting to these half-wits as the son of a convicted war criminal who had narrowly escaped such a sentence himself.

When the number of students had finally depleted, Draco stood up slowly, and got off the train.

To his relief there was only one thestral-led carriage left, and he couldn't see anyone else around, meaning he wouldn't have to endure anyone's company for the journey towards that castle. He climbed inside, closed the door behind him and waited for the thestrals to start moving. He waited for another couple of minutes, and considered throwing a rock at one of them to give them a bit of a jumpstart, until he remembered that they were trained not to leave until every single student had been escorted up to the castle.

Cursing whichever imbecile was even later than him, Draco threw his head back and closed his eyes. He might as well try to pretend he was somewhere else, right? Not long after, the carriage door flew open. Draco didn't bother to open his eyes and greet whoever it was, however, when after about thirty seconds they had still not climbed into the carriage, he thought he should at least know who he was about to berate.

Hermione fucking Granger. Of course it was. It couldn't have been someone actually tolerable, because that would just be unfair. She was loitering in the doorway with a bitter and hesitant look on her face.

"Are you going to get in or not mudblood?" Draco snapped.

She huffed and took a step backwards. "I think I would rather walk up actually." She said hotly.

He rolled his eyes and balled his fists, resisting the urge to throttle her. It wouldn't do to show such unrestrained emotion whilst the ministry was still watching him so closely. Especially not to one of Potter's inner circle.

"Granger, unless you get into this carriage it won't leave, and the school will come looking for it. Do you really want me to explain to McGonagall that you sabotaged my arrival?" he said as calmly as possible.

Granger cursed under her breath and reluctantly stepped inside. She sat as far away from him as the small space would allow, and looked out the window. As soon as she was seated, the thestrals started to move forwards, bringing them closer and closer to Draco's personal hell. He had hated Hogwarts before he'd been taken out by his father last year, but it would be one hundred times worse this time around. Teachers and students would be studying him with an almost unbearable scrutiny, waiting for him to slip up somehow. He wasn't sure how they expected him to go about it, he supposed that much was up to him, but he knew without a shadow of a doubt that in their minds, he was just a ticking time bomb. Only time would tell if he was still able to command respect from his peers in Slytherin, as he'd done so easily before the war.

He let his eyes stray to Granger, who seemed to be doing her very best to pretend he wasn't there. She looked a lot healthier than the last time he had seen her. Of course, the last time he had seen her she had been being tortured by his aunt in his dining room, whilst he had stood by unable to help, so it wasn't a difficult thing to manage. Her hair seemed longer and less manic, and her face had become more defined and mature than it had been before – hell, her entire body had. Obviously, he wouldn't go near the stuck-up swot with a ten-foot pole, but it would be simply ignorant of him not to notice that she had become rather more attractive in recent years than he would have thought possible, having known her in first year. He suddenly noticed that Granger's eyes were rather red and puffy. She had been crying. Good. Had he done that to her? He smirked, relishing in the idea that he could still make her squirm like that, that his words still held power over her, despite her insistence that they didn't.

He hoped it had been he who was responsible. All the fun was taken out if it was just the result of some petty feud between her and Weasley.

"Been crying, Granger? Don't tell me that the Weasel has moved on to some other filth?" He taunted, knowing that, for reasons he simply couldn't fathom, Weasley was a soft spot for her.

"Why don't you just shut the fuck up and do us both a favour Malfoy." She snarled at him. He smirked – he liked it when she fought back.

"Did that hit a little too close to home? Well I suppose it was only a matter of time until the idiot realised that even he could do better than you…"

"You know something Malfoy, if I were you I would step carefully this year. God knows why McGonagall chose you for head boy, but somethings telling me that it wasn't her ideal choice." She studied his reaction, waiting for him to give something away, but Draco kept his face utterly devoid of emotion, save a small smirk, deigned purely to antagonise. "I would even go so far as to bet that this wasn't her choice at all – rather the ministries… I wonder what would happen if you were demoted, or expelled even…" she raised one eyebrow at him, a corner of her mouth tilting slightly upwards. In that moment, she looked so utterly Slytherin that Draco wondered if the sorting hat had made a mistake. "Unless you want to find out, Malfoy, I would suggest you start acting like less of a pompous asshole around me."

"Well well, Granger… You really have grown up haven't you."

"yeah, well, being tortured for hours on end will do that to a person."

Draco said nothing. He kept his face a mask, making sure to not let Granger know what her words had done to him. He sincerely hoped that to her he looked simply uninterested, because if she ever knew how much that night had affected him, he didn't think he would be able to live it down. Watching Granger be relentlessly tortured by his deranged aunt – watching her carve the word 'mudblood' into her arm – had irrevocably changed Draco. It was that moment he had lost all of his zeal for the war, not that he had been an eager supporter of the Dark Lord since the very beginning of his sixth year. He, of course, had kept his lack of enthusiasm to himself, his family had a role to play and a name to maintain.

He supposed it was the fact that Granger wasn't just some disposable mudblood to him. Hate her as he may, he'd known her since he was eleven years old, and seeing her sprawled out on the floor writhing in agony just felt plain wrong.

He turned from her and looked out of the window at the nearing castle and tried to resist the urge to jump from the carriage and leg it back to Malfoy Manor. Whilst he was sure his mother would be happy to see him, it was part of his parole to return to Hogwarts and take all of his NEWTs, plus an extra one in Muggle Studies. The ministry didn't seem to want to listen when he had told them that he'd already missed a year's worth of classes in the subject and would have an almost impossible job of catching up. He wasn't exactly in the position to make demands.

"Malfoy," Granger said suddenly, and without all hints of aggression, breaking him from his revere.

He looked from the window and back towards her, interested in her sudden change of tone.

"Why did you help us - in Malfoy Manor, I mean - why didn't you tell Bellatrix who we were."

"I'm not talking about this."

"Why not?" She challenged, obviously wanting an answer. In truth, Draco couldn't give her one. He still wasn't sure why he helped them himself. Maybe it was the desire for grandeur of some sense, and the faint hope that if Granger's side won, they would be forced to admit that they owed it all to a Malfoy, or maybe it was a split second of insanity. All he knew that in that moment something had possessed him to lie to his aunt, and he still couldn't find it in himself to regret his actions.

"Because there's nothing to talk about." He replied snippily.

"Nothing? You lied to a bat-shit crazy murderer to protect your worst enemy and you say there's nothing to talk about?"

For fucks sake! This girl just didn't know when to leave well enough alone. When the house elves were the subject of her insanity Draco had found it quite amusing, but when the tables were turned around on him, he wasn't laughing so much.

It was at precisely the moment Draco considered casting an imperious on her for the remainder of the year that the carriage lurched to a halt outside of the castle entrance. He pushed the door open and jumped out of the carriage as quickly as humanly possible, and spun around to face Granger one more time.

"You know, Granger, If I wanted to make it out of this year unscathed, I probably wouldn't go around provoking known death eaters just to satiate my irrepressible desire for gossip."

He spun around quickly and made his way into the castle, leaving Granger alone in the carriage. His hand was resting on the door handle when he heard her mutter quietly, "Ex death eater, Malfoy".

He pushed the door open with all of his strength, and stormed into the hall. He didn't need Granger sticking her head in his business all year, and he would damn well make sure that she stopped, one way or another.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed this chapter! If so please review it to let me know! on second thought, even if you hated it with a burning passion leave me a review and tell me why I'm rubbish. I really just want some reviews. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

* * *

The great hall doors had never sounded so loud. Momentarily forgetting that he was late by at least 10 minutes, Draco thrust them open and stormed into the room. All eyes turned to him immediately. McGonagall's gaze fell upon him, but thankfully, she continued on with her speech, although he could feel her beady little eyes boring a hole into the back of his head as he made his way to the Slytherin table. He made his way to his usual seat, in between Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson, and felt relieved to see that they had saved a space for him. As he sat down, he half expected to be interrogated about why he was so late, but was pleased to see that even after the war, no one at his table dare challenge a Malfoy. Gazing around the room, he caught the eyes of Potter and Weasley who were clearly both seething with anger. Wondering what he could have done so early in the year to piss them off this badly, and how he could do it again, he noticed that the seat in between them was also vacant. _Granger hadn't arrived yet._ That must be it. Those half-wits were obviously thinking that he had something to do with her prolonged absence, that he'd done something unspeakable to her in the few moments that there were alone together.

Those two didn't half piss him off. Looking away from them, his eyes wandered up to the staff table, lingering momentarily on the seats previously occupied by Snape, Dumbledore, and finally, Professor Burbage, the muggle studies teacher Voldemort had killed on Draco's own dining table. He looked hastily away. He tried his hardest not to think about such things, wallowing in the past was not exactly a good method for leaving it behind you.

"Malfoy," Parkinson whispered, forcefully yanking him from his thoughts, "why were you so late? And where's Granger?" Pansy, however, had never been one to respect his status among his peers. He suspected that that was down to the fact he had basically grown up with her, along with Blaise. The three were as close to 'best friends' as one could be without coming across as horribly cliché and trite.

"I haven't the foggiest where she is, Pansy, and I don't really care either. As for why I was so late," he hissed back, careful not to have their conversation overheard, "Granger spent about 10 minutes debating whether or not to get into the last available carriage, and the blasted things don't move unless every single remaining student had been carried up to the school."

Parkinson's face was a picture. "You two were alone in the carriage ride up? Oh, Draco tell me you didn't kill her – that is the last press you need right now."

"Don't be daft Pansy, like Draco would be able to get the upper hand on little miss perfect, I bet she came out of the womb practicing wand movements."

Draco glared at Blaise, "As if that prissy know it all could beat me." Blaise snickered, and Draco turned his attention on to the sorting.

It was around the time that a 'Tabatha Millwald' was sorted into Hufflepuff, that the great hall doors opened one more time, and Hermione Granger walked stiffly into the room. Draco could tell that she was bothered by everybody starting at her, but to her credit, she dealt with it well. Her head was held high as she walked over to her seat between Potty and Weasel, and sat down quickly. As soon as she sat down, the rest of the Gryffindor table seemed to consume her. They all gathered as close to her as possible and, Draco assumed, grill her on her whereabouts. He would have been blind to not notice the heated glares that her personal guard kept shooting his way, but what surprised him was that Granger seemed to dismiss these with a wave of her hand. He watched on, trying to piece together what she was telling her table, but she really wasn't making it very obvious. God, it was always whispers and murmurs and muted hand gestures with Gryffindors!

After a while, Draco gave up on his attempt to lip read, turned his attention back towards Blaise and Pansy. They chattered idly enough until finally the food arrived. Draco hadn't realised how hungry he was until he was sitting right in front of an entire platter of chicken wings.

"I wonder whose been chosen as head boy and girl this year," Blaise mused, piling mashed potato onto his plate.

"Oh, yeah," Draco replied, realising he'd forgotten to tell them so far. "It was me." Pansy nearly choked on her pumpkin juice. "and Granger."

Parkinson slowly set the goblet down, a look of shock, amusement and frustration on her face. "How could you just forget to tell us!" she all but screamed at him, while Blaise simply sat there laughing.

"What exactly is so funny Zabini? Pansy snapped.

"C'mon Pans, Draco and Granger having to live together, its fucking hilarious! A mudblood and pureblood in cohabitation… Draco, mate, your father would have a heart attack."

"Yeah, well" Draco grimaced, "I'm glad you're finding this so hilarious." His eyes swept back across the room and landed on Granger once more, who was sullenly poking around what seemed to be a potato.

"At least she'll probably be so anal about all of the head student responsibilities that she won't let you anywhere near them." Blaise said helpfully.

Pansy shook her head. "Why on earth are you the head boy though? It just doesn't make any sense!"

"Oh, thanks Pans…" Draco said dryly.

"Oh, shut up, you know what I mean – sure your grades are good, but asides from that you're hardly a good example, are you."

"She is right, mate." Blaise added, reaching across Draco for a donut.

"Look, I was as surprised as you guys are. I guess it must have been a stipulation of the ministry – put me on the highest pedestal possible so that when I fall down the entire wizarding world will be able to see."

"yeah, I guess that makes sense…" said Pansy, "but Draco you mustn't fall, not this year, not with everyone watching."

"Dear god Pansy you sound like my Mother."

"Yeah? Well she's a wise woman Draco."

The rest of dinner passed somewhat uneventfully. The students gorged themselves on the feast before them and McGonagall gave one last speech, before finally dismissing them all.

Draco and Granger were to meet the professor outside the head's dorm room and, Draco was sure, receive a hefty bollocking for being late. With the grim sense of satisfaction that at least Granger was later than him, he said goodbye to Blaise and Pansy, and set off alone to his new living space.

* * *

"Hermione, you've barely touched your food," Harry said, concern evident in his voice, "are you feeling ok?"

"I'm fine, really, I just don't seem to have much of an appetite right now. I think my body's far too full of dread to even consider a Yorkshire pudding…"

"well I don't blame you," Ginny added, "But still, you really should try to eat something." The redhead's eyes swept the table, looking for something she thought Hermione might enjoy, until they landed on a bowl of roast potatoes. She heaped a spoonful onto Hermione's plate, and then looked at her expectantly.

"Gin, I'm just honestly not hungry, in fact, if I do eat anything, with the way I'm feeling there's a pretty good chance it will just come back up."

Hermione did not like lying to her friends one bit. But she figured that this technically was only stretching the truth. She technically did feel somewhat nauseous about the reprimand she was sure to get from McGonagall for being late, and about having to live with Malfoy, so really it was just an exaggeration.

"Oh fine, but I don't understand how you can be sat in front of all of this food and not want any of it!" Ron nodded, looking equally confused.

"Weasleys…" Hermione muttered fondly.

The rest of dinner was spent catching up with the rest of her house, and exchanging stories about their post war lives. By the time dinner was over, Hermione didn't want to leave. As they all stood up, Hermione turned to Harry and gave him a huge hug, followed by Ginny, and then finally Ron.

"I'll miss you guys!" she said, letting it sink in for the first time that not only would she be living with a Slytherin, but she wouldn't be living with any of her Gryffindors.

"Oh, Hermione, you'll only be down the hall from us, it will be fine, okay?" Said Ginny reassuringly, rubbing her arm.

"Yeah, I suppose…" she mumbled. "Well, I'd better get going, lest I leave McGonagall waiting again…"

Her friends all waved at her and murmured empty reassurances, and with that, she left the great hall.

Luckily for her, Hermione knew a shortcut the head's dorms (being best friends with Harry Potter did come with occasional custody of the Marauders Map), and so she was there before even McGonagall. As she waited outside the portrait, she thought out her excuse for being so late to the sorting ceremony. Maybe she could say that she had been helping a baby thestral untangle itself from its reigns? She had found an awful mess left by peeves and decided to clean it up?

She knew full well that McGonagall would see straight though her lies, and sighed at the futility of her efforts. Hearing the harsh tapping sounds of boots on the stone floors, she turned around. Malfoy was strolling down the corridor, his hands in his pockets, and looking like he hadn't a care left in the world. When he finally reached her, she snapped. "How can you be so calm right now!"

"Got our knickers in a twist, have we Granger?" he drawled mockingly.

She felt her blood start to boil the moment that prat opened his mouth. Just how did he manage to be so damn infuriating?! He sneered at her one last time before looking away and studying the portrait behind her. Hermione thought she might as well take the opportunity to study him. His grey eyes bore into the canvas, and flickered about, seemingly wanting to absorb every detail it had to offer. His features, she begrudgingly admitted, weren't all too hideous when they weren't arranged in a menacing scowl, or a taunting sneer. His platinum blonde hair seemed a tad shorter than it had the last time she'd seen him, and it was with a start that she realised Fred and George must have actually done it! They'd replaced his shampoo with fucking hair removal cream! She felt a sudden surge of affection for the two, and somehow managed to hold back the bark of laughter threatening to spill from her.

"Yeah, well maybe you're used to being yelled at by McGonagall, but I'm not, and the few times it has happened haven't been fun…"

"I should hope not, Miss. Granger."

Hermione whirled around to see Professor McGonagall walking swiftly towards them, a stern look on her face. She felt her cheeks burning in embarrassment.

"Would either of you care to tell me why you were so late to the ceremony? It is entirely unprecedented to have _both_ head students be late to the very first feast of the year!"

"I am so sorry, Professor… It won't happen again, you have my word." Hermione said quietly.

'Yes, well, you're right about that Miss. Granger. And you, Mr. Malfoy? What have you to say for all this?"

Hermione braced herself for the worst. It would hardly be out of character for Malfoy to say something rash, or inflammatory and get them both demoted.

"It won't happen again, professor." He said, somewhat curtly, but a marked improvement on what Hermione had been expecting. McGonagall seemed to be on the same page, as she looked at Malfoy for a couple of seconds before nodding tersely.

"Right, well, the password for your common room is 'devil's snare'. If at any point, you both want to change it, all you need do is mutually agree of a password and tell the portrait" she gestured to the picture of a young girl sitting on a swing, with a flower crown in her hair, who smiled happily and waved at them. Her eyes flickered between Malfoy and Hermione, "It would be foolish to assume that you two being thrown into cohabitation will be a naturally smooth transition, but you have both been given a position that demands high levels of maturity. Therefore, I expect you to deal with any problems you may have quickly. I will not tolerate the two head students bickering like first years. Understood?"

"Yes professor." Hermione said.

Malfoy nodded, although his face screamed disinterest. How McGonagall could deal with such high levels of disrespect, Hermione would never know.

"Very well. I shall leave you two to settle in then. And remember what I said – I do not expect to have any problems concerning you both. This year will be hard enough without it."

She turned around, and, cloak billowing behind her, she disappeared the way she came. Hermione turned to Malfoy, "Are you happy with the password?"

"It's as good as any, I suppose." He replied, still staring at the portrait, instead of her.

"Fine then." She replied snappily. "Devil's snare." She said to the portrait. The little girl grinned at Hermione, and the painting swung forwards to reveal Hermione's new home.

 

* * *

Hope you enjoyed it! Please review!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five 

* * *

 

The common room, in Hermione’s opinion, was perfect. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with hundreds of tomes Hermione had never seen before, only stopping when they met an enormous, ornate, marble fireplace – in front of which sat a red and silver loveseat and two armchairs, with an intricately carved wooden coffee table in the middle. She stepped through the portrait to get a better look, and noticed that to the right was a kitchen, which seemed to be fully stocked with a stove, fridge and microwave. At the back of the room was a staircase, that lead up to a hallway, made visible by a balcony, with a door at each end. Assuming these were the bedrooms, she raced up the stairs, looked to her right and saw that the door had the initials, ‘ _HG_ ’ carved into them. Excitedly, she pushed the door open and entered. In the centre of the room was a king sized, four poster bed with red and gold hangings. To the left of that was a full-length mirror with a golden frame. To the right of the bed, there was a massive window, underneath which was a mahogany desk. Hermione pulled off her cloak and threw it on her bed, excited to have something to mark it as her own, but as soon as it was there, she felt the overwhelming need to just put it away. There was no need to get her brand new bedroom messy in the first 2 minutes of living in it.

 

So, she carefully folded her cloak into the dresser to the left of the door, and sat down. It was then that she noticed a door opposite the bed. Curious, she got up and pushed it open. It was a bathroom, almost identical to that of the prefects, complete with a giant bath tub with hundreds of different taps. She leaned over and started running a few of them, just to see the different colours pour out, when a loud bang startled her half to death. She whipped around to see Malfoy standing in a doorway on the other side of the room. Of course she had to share a bathroom with the bastard! Why did this have to be the one time Ron was right!

 

“Don’t you knock?” she snapped. “I could have been in the bath, Malfoy!”

 

“Trust me Granger, I have no intent on seeing you in any state of undress. I wasn’t aware this was a bathroom. I was also unaware that I would have to share.”

 

She tried, and failed, to ignore the sting that came with his sharp words. Of course he wouldn’t want to see her naked, who would with her body? Absolutely no one. Her eyes swept the bathroom, trying their hardest to avoid the tall blonde. There were no weighing scales. She felt a sudden surge of relief that she had brought her own pair, and was busy contemplating whether or not she would have to hide them from Malfoy when she realised that she had gone the entire day without eating anything! She couldn’t help the surge of pride that flew through her, despite knowing how twisted it was. She wanted to weigh herself so badly that she almost ran to her room and tore out her scales, despite her rule to only weigh herself first thing in the morning.

 

Suddenly frustrated by Malfoy’s presence in the room, she turned to him once more. “Are you quite done in here? I would like to have a bath now.”

 

“And why should I have to leave just so you can do whatever you want?” He challenged obnoxiously.

 

“Because, Malfoy,” She all but snarled, “I was here first, and I have just as much of a right to be in here as you do.”

 

He leaned back into the door frame, with a nasty smile playing on the corner of his mouth, as though he had been waiting for the opportunity to piss her off like this as soon as he’d found out they would be living together. “Here, in the bathroom? Or here, in the wizarding world? Because I hate to break it to you mudblood, but…” he trailed off.

 

“Oh, forget it, Malfoy.” She spat out, fists balled at her sides. She really hadn’t the energy to deal with his pompous and bigoted ways, and she could easily just shower in the morning. She spun around and stormed out of the bathroom, slamming her bedroom door behind her.

 

“Colloportus.” She muttered, and felt herself calm somewhat at the sound of the door locking itself.

 

She threw herself onto her bed, finally giving into the exhaustion that had been trying to claim her since she’d learned of Malfoy’s new position. She rolled over so that she was facing the ceiling, and with a quick wave of her wand, her belongings started to put themselves neatly away, exactly where she wanted them. Wishing that she knew whether or not there was a spell that would swap her robes for her pyjamas, she sullenly rolled off of the bed and walked to the chest of draws. She got changed as quickly as possible, to be sure that she wouldn’t have to see body a second longer than absolutely necessary, and to her great relief, she didn’t at all.

 

She walked back over to her bed, and this time noticed a ball of orange fluff on one of her pillows. “Crookshanks!” she greeted. “How did you get in here? You’re so clever!” she cooed, scratching behind his ear. He lazily opened one eye, before closing it again and beginning a soft, deep purr. She laid her head down on the pillow next to the cat, and before she knew it, felt her eyelids pulling her down into oblivion.

 

It had been a long time since Hermione Granger had gotten a decent night’s sleep, she suspected that it was due to a sense of restlessness that surrounded her when she was out of Hogwarts. So to say that she was irritated to be woken up by three harsh knocks on her bedroom door was an understatement. She rolled over and buried her head underneath the pillow. Just when she thought it would work, and she found herself drifting back off to sleep, the sharp raps began again, this time accompanied by a voice.

 

“Granger, for fucks sake get up. Its 08:30, you have 15 minutes to get to classes.”

 

At this, Hermione flew out of bed and ran to the door. She was about to fling it open when she remembered what a state she must be in, having just woken up. It was then that her vision went black and she started to feel as though she might faint. It might have freaked her out if it was the first time it had happened, but she was more than used to it by now. Leaning heavily on the door, her vision slowly returning, she muttered distractedly, “what do you mean, Malfoy?”

 

“I mean, Granger, that you have 15 minutes exactly to get to class, or you’ll be late.” Malfoy drawled. “and on your first day too… tut, tut, tut…”

 

“Why didn’t you wake me earlier then!” she snapped, her lightheaded spell over now, and replaced with a strong sense of panic.

 

“Granger, I’m not your fucking nanny.” He said, a sharp tone to his voice. “Just hurry the fuck up and get to class will you – if you’re late to class for the first time in your life, who do you think is going to get the blame? For fucks sake McGonagall will probably come storming up here thinking I murdered you or some shit.”

 

He was right. As much as Hermione hated to admit it, not even Malfoy deserved people assuming the worst of him at all times. It was hardly the best environment in which to not be a total dick.

 

She sighed. “Fine. I’ll make sure I’m on time, alright?” she paused again, the words she had planned to say next making her wish she could just choke on them instead, “and, um, thank you - for waking me, I mean.”

 

“Don’t get used to it.” She could practically hear his sneer through the door.

 

Waiting long enough for him to slither away, she backed slowly away from the door, careful not to test her luck.

 

It had been at least 24 hours since she had eaten anything. She’d only ever gone this long before once, and she’d made it to 40 hours. She wouldn’t have any time to eat breakfast now, which was a brilliant excuse to carry on fasting and beat her record. _She could do this._

 

Trying not to notice her hands shaking as she pulled her uniform out from her dresser, she tore of her pyjamas as quickly as possible and exchanged them with her school robes. She then turned to face the mirror. Her hair was all sorts of crazy. Muttering a spell to calm it down, and doing her best to smooth it down somewhat, she grabbed her bag and flew out of her room.

 

By the time she was down the stairs she was already exhausted. She should have made sure she’d woken early enough to get some tea or coffee! There wasn’t a great deal of chance that without a healthy amount of caffeine in her system she could make it through the day conscious.

 

According to her watch, she had 5 minutes left until classes started. She stumbled into the kitchen and walked over to see the kettle already on the stove. She summoned a mug to her and hastily poured the boiling water in, careful enough not to burn herself. One tea bag, some skimmed milk and 4 sugars later, (sugar in her tea was the one thing that Hermione still allowed herself to feel guilt free about. It was really the only thing that kept her sane at this point, and she wasn’t about to sacrifice it anytime soon) she turned around and jumped so much that she spilled half of her tea on the floor. Fucking fantastic. Malfoy sat at the table, an empty plate in front of him, studying her every move. He was watching her with the sort of intense scrutiny that made her wonder if she had something on her face.

 

“Why are you still here.” She said curtly.

 

He sneered at her, “trying to kick me out of my own common room Granger?”

 

She bristled, “No, obviously not, I was just-“

 

“Whatever.” He interrupted her. “Hurry up with your drink Granger, or you’ll be late.” He stood up, walked to the door and took in her dishevelled appearance once more. “see you in potions.”

 

And with that, he took off out of the common room. Hermione sighed to herself and finished her tea as quickly as possible, muttering a quick spell to clean up the floor. She couldn’t figure Malfoy out! Sure, he hadn’t been overly nice to her that morning, but he also went out of his way to wake her up. It had made sense until he had reminded her that potions was first lesson. Transfiguration she could understand, but potions? As if Professor Snape would ever punish Malfoy over her… What was he playing at?

 

She grabbed her bag and headed out of the common room. By the time she was nearing the potions classroom, she could see Harry and Ron just ahead of her. She called after them. Harry stopped immediately and turned around immediately with a grin on his face.

“’Mione! You survived your first night in Hell!” He said with a laugh, before encasing her in a hug.

 

She grinned, “Yep. And I barely had to make contact with Malfoy at all! Maybe this won’t be as hard as I thought.” She pulled away from Harry and turned to Ron, “Hey, Ron” she greeted.

 

Ron, however, only looked at the floor and mumbled something almost entirely unintelligible, before taking off ahead of them. Hermione stopped in her tracks and turned to Harry, who had a look of exasperation on his face.

 

“Did I do something?” She asked, bewildered, “was it because I said Malfoy wasn’t that bad?”

 

“No, ‘Mione, you haven’t done anything, don’t worry.” He draped his arm over her shoulder, and they carried on to potions.

 

“Then what-“

 

“Look, Hermione, I really didn’t want to be the one to tell you this, but I guess it’s best you hear it from me now…”

 

He seemed to be doing everything possible to not meet her gaze. Had something happened to one of the other Weasleys? Hermione didn’t know what she would do if something had happened to Ginny or one of the twins… “Harry, what is it? You’re scaring me…”

 

He looked over at her and smiled softly, “Nothing _terrible_ has happened, stop worrying.”

 

Now he was just confusing her. “Can you just spit it out please Harry, I haven’t got all day you know.”

 

“Fine, but you asked for it. Last night, there was a small, impromptu, welcome back party in Gryffindor tower. Some firewhiskey was passed around, and – “

 

“Harry! You know that’s against the rules! You really shouldn’t be telling me that, you know. I ought to report you to McGonagall… I won’t, but I ought to.”

 

He rolled his eyes, “Do you want to hear this or not?”

 

“Sorry,” she mumbled, “go ahead.”

 

“As I was saying, some firewhiskey was passed around, and eventually we got on to playing some drinking games. It started out pretty tame, you know? But then someone – I think it was Pavarti – suggested that we play seven minutes in heaven.”

 

At the confused look on her face, Harry elaborated, “Basically, you spin a bottle, and the person who spun it, and whoever it lands on, have to go into a small, dark, private place for seven minutes.”

 

“Well,” harry paused, and looked as though he might just change his mind all together, when he finally spat out, “When Lavender spun her bottle, it landed on Ron.”

 

“Oh.” Hermione said sharply. “Well, that doesn’t necessarily mean that they did anything. They could have just talked for seven minutes!” Even as she was speaking she could feel her credulity slipping away. Lavender Brown? Talk for seven minutes? God, she would be surprised if the moron could even string a sentence together long enough to last 20 seconds.

 

“Hermione,” Harry said softly, “they were in there for a lot longer than seven minutes. And when they finally did come out, Ron was covered in bright pink lipstick.”

 

She stopped walking, Harry stopped with her. “Hermione, are you alright? I mean, I know that you, well, that you, er…”

 

“That I what Harry?” she snapped, her face burning red. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I also have no clue why you think I would care about this. Ronald is at perfect liberty to kiss whomever he wants. I do not care.”

 

And with that, she stormed into the classroom, leaving Harry in her dust, and completely bypassing the seat table she usually shared with the boys. Instead, she headed straight for the table right at the back of the classroom, one that as far as she knew, usually went unoccupied.

 

She had just sat down and started to get her books out, when she heard a familiar, deep voice from behind her. “Is there any particular reason you’ve decided to claim my seat, Granger?” he drawled.

 

Hermione, frustrated beyond all reason with the turn her day had taken, spun around to face Malfoy. “It’s not _your_ seat, Malfoy. I can sit wherever I want! And besides, there’s space over there, with your cronies.” She gestured to Crabbe, Goyle and Nott.

 

Malfoy’s eyes briefly flickered over to his fellow house members, before landing back on Hermione, “They aren’t my ‘cronies’” he snapped. “why are you sitting here anyway? Don’t you usually sit over there with Potter and Weasle-“ He broke off, a smirk taking over his face. Hermione had no idea what could have caused such a sudden change in reaction from him, and was even more bewildered by what came next. “Actually Granger, I think I’m going to sit right here,” he said, placing his bag down next to her on the table.

 

Hermione was at a loss for words. This was absolutely unheard of. A Slytherin voluntarily sitting next to a Gryffindor in a potions lesson! And to make things even more insane it wasn’t just any Slytherin, it was _the_ Slytherin – Malfoy.

 

“Malfoy, what are you playing at?” She asked, nervously.

 

“Absolutely nothing, Granger.” He said with a smirk that almost guaranteed to her that he was lying.

 

Just before she could properly tell Malfoy to sod off, Snape came gliding into the lesson. He stopped immediately when he entered the room and stared at Hermione and Malfoy with a look of shock and mild disgust on his face. Out of the corner of her eye Hermione could see Ron’s magenta face, staring at the pair of them with undisguised loathing.

 

This was going to be one hell of a lesson.

 

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Please review! 

 

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

Sorry for taking so long! I've been very busy with exams and things - but at last, here it is...

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CHAPTER SIX

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She was in his seat. Why the fuck was she in his seat? Well, _technically_ , it wasn't his seat – he'd never even sat there before – but he had fully intended to. Why on Earth Granger was even there was a mystery to him, and he had planned on sending her packing back to her Gryffindorks, until he'd seen Weasley staring at them, his face puce with rage. That had given him an idea. Why not kill two birds with one stone – piss off Weasley _and_ Granger at the same time!

"Malfoy, what are you playing at?" Granger asked as he sat down next to her, eyeing him suspiciously. He just could not get enough of how easily he could get under her skin! It was second nature to him at this point. He would have thought that eventually Granger would have built up some sort of immunity to his antics, as Potter had (for the most part), but, like Weasley, she remained putty in his hands.

"Absolutely nothing, Granger" He cursed himself for not being able to keep the smirk off his face, but this situation promised too much fun for it to go unrecognised. It was when Snape walked in that he really had to restrain himself from laughing. The look on the old git's face was a fucking masterpiece. He looked as though he wasn't sure whether he was going to faint or throw up, and Draco would have payed 1000 galleons to see either. Snape had been a real thorn in his side the last couple of months. There was barely a day over the summer when he wasn't at Malfoy manor, sucking up to Narcissa or lecturing Draco on how important it was to be seen to do the right thing once he went back to Hogwarts, and sticking his hooked nose where it didn't belong. He couldn't even count the number of evenings he'd ruined by pulling Draco away from a young witch he'd met at a bar, or stopping him and Blaise from even going out in the first place.

"You must think about how this looks, Draco. You must be shown to be remorseful!" He had chastised over and over. It seemed that as soon as Lucius had been locked behind bars, Snape had decided that the one thing Draco really needed, was _another_ overbearing Death Eater telling him what to do or, ex-Death eater as the case may be.

Draco had expected his mother to slam the door in the slimy twat's face after finding out that he'd been working for the Order of the Phoenix the whole time, but she did nothing of the sort. She welcomed him back as though nothing had happened, leaving Draco to have to figure out whether or not the man had a trustworthy bone in his body. He'd come to the conclusion that he did, as long as the person relying on him was on the winning side.

He just couldn't help but feel betrayed by the potion master's actions. He had known how much Draco had been struggling with the task he had been given by the Dark Lord – how desperate he was for a way out at the time, and all Snape had done was sit back on his laurels and watch. Sure, he had been the one to deliver the final blow, but at no point did the thought cross his mind to tell Draco that there was another option? Bullshit.

He wouldn't have fought against the Death Eaters, that would be stupid, and he had no doubt that it would prove fatal to his whole family, but couldn't the order have just hidden them away? Protected them from the mess that his wretched father had gotten them into?

Whatever. It was too late for what-ifs now. Snape could have helped him and he didn't. That was all that mattered.

He looked over to Granger. She had pushed herself as far away from him as humanly possible without falling off her chair. Just one little nudge… No. That was too juvenile, too unrefined, too – well, Weasley. Instead, he leant back in his seat and watched her. It was hardly a secret that there was no love lost between the Golden trio and Snape, but even still, Granger watched him attentively as he spoke – or snarled, perhaps – to the class. Potter and Weasley however, were both leaning back in their seats; Weasley looking far too enraged to learn anything, and Potter just fucking about with his wand, drawing shapes in the air under the table. There would have been a time when Draco, upon noticing this, would shoot his hand in the air and alert Snape to the minor infractions occurring a few desks over in hopes to get a few points confiscated from Gryffindor. Now, though, Draco found that he couldn't care less. House points seemed so juvenile and mundane after the atrocities he'd been through, that they'd all been through. But despite this there was still plenty of fun to be found in pissing of Weasley.

"Granger" He whispered.

She tensed immediately, before turning her head ever so slightly in his direction. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

"Why aren't you sitting with Potter and Weasley?"

"Why do you care?" she whispered.

"I'm bored, entertain me." He said, smirking.

"You should be focusing!" she snapped at him, "And not dragging my grades down with yours!"

Granger's voice had slowly crept up in volume as she got more annoyed with Draco. Not enough for anyone to hear what they had been saying, but enough for them to know that they'd been having a conversation. Snape looked over at them.

"Miss. Granger, if sitting next to Mr. Malfoy is too much of a distraction for you, then might I suggest that you move?"

Granger's face flushed red, and she glanced at Draco with a look of pure annoyance, before turning to Snape. "Sorry, Professor. It won't happen again."

She had been offered the perfect excuse to get up and sit with her friends, but she made no move to leave. For some reason, she was actually opting to sit with him instead. Whatever Weasley had done must have been bad… She shot him one particularly venomous glare for getting her told off, and then continued to make notes.

Quietly, he moved his chair slightly towards Granger's.

"Malfoy!" she hissed. "What do you think you're doing!" She looked up from her notes to check that Snape wasn't looking and then whirled around to face him. "I'm trying to focus!"

He rolled his eyes. "yeah, like always." He leaned in closer to her, so that he could whisper to her easily. She froze completely, as if he were some sort of dinosaur and as long as she was still his threat was neutralised. "You see, Granger, that's your problem. You need to learn how to relax, and… Enjoy yourself."

Perfect. Her quill froze now too. She was obviously confused, or terrified, or a mixture of both, which suited Draco just fine.

"Look, Malfoy, whatever game you're playing, knock it off!"

"Game? I don't know what you're talking about Granger, all I'm trying to do is encourage you to _let loose_ , you know? Have a little fun."

He hadn't intended on taking this route with Granger, but it seemed to be the most effective way of getting at her. He wondered why that was. Why it was that Granger seemed to be more affected and put upon when he flirted with her than when he called her a filthy mudblood. Maybe it was overexposure? He doubted that anyone had ever really payed her that kind of attention before, but she'd most certainly been called a mudblood a fair few times.

"Malfoy, I swear to God if you don't stop, I'll-"

"You'll what, Granger? What will you do?" He whispered, his lips mere inches away from her ear.

Granger's eyes were darting everywhere, trying to make sure that nobody was looking over at them. She had almost made a complete sweep of the room when they froze, in horror, on Potter and Weasley's table. If Draco had thought that Weasley had looked angry before, it was absolutely nothing compared to now. He was positively seething. Weasley's eyes went from Granger's flushed complexion to their close proximity, and finally to the smirk adorning Draco's face. His hands were gripping the edge of his table with an almost impressive amount of force for a Weasley. Potter, still unaware of Weasley's predicament, had now taken to drawing out a quidditch pitch and was planning out various strategies for the upcoming tournament.

It was then that Snape whipped around, having finished writing up the instructions, and fixed the class with a look that loosely translated to 'what are you fucking idiots waiting for?'.

Everyone hurriedly scurried from their places and made their way to gather supplies, everyone, that is, except Draco. Granger seemed to leap from her seat the fastest of anyone in the room, eager to get away from him no doubt. When she noticed that he was still stationary, she whipped around and scowled at him. "Just what do you think you're doing, Malfoy? You can't expect me to do all of the work!"

"Why not, Granger? I thought you loved 'focusing' and 'paying attention'" he smirked, "I'm only trying to make it easier for you!"

"Yeah, well do you know what you can do, Malfoy? You can take your-"

She was interrupted by the loud and unnecessary sound of a chair scraping across the floor, something that Draco found rather frustrating as he had been looking forward to seeing where that insult was going. One of Granger's least awful qualities was her ability to keep up with him in a verbal sparring match, and keep him on his toes. Glancing over to the source of the noise, he was not at all surprised to see that it was Weasley's doing. He _was_ surprised by the fact that he was now making a B-line straight for their table – wait, no, Draco's table. Draco's table at which Granger had rudely taken up residence.

"What do you want, Weasley." He drawled.

"I want you, _ferret_ , to stay away from 'Mione."

So they were dispensing with pleasantries then. "I don't know what you mean weasel…" he said, an air of disinterest exuding from him.

"I'm not stupid, Malfoy." Weasley snapped.

"Beg to differ." He interjected

The ginger idiot continued as if Draco hadn't spoken, "Don't think I didn't see you two just now, cosying up. For Christ's sake Hermione, is that all it takes for you? One night in the same dorm as him and you're all over each other? I didn't know you were that easy." He spat.

Boy oh boy was Weasley going to get it. The look in Granger's eyes was something fierce. Sure, there was hurt there, but she did a damn good job of hiding it, for a Gryffindor. He couldn't wait to hear her put Weasley in his place, tell him not to be such an insecure, presumptuous bastard.

"Ronald," she began in an icy tone, "it is really none of your business whatsoever what I chose to do with my time or who I chose to spend spend it with! Now if you don't mind, Malfoy and I have a potion to get on with."

Malfoy felt his eyes widen infinitesimally. He had not expected that. He clearly had nothing on Weasley though. He had obviously been expecting a vehement denial, (as had Draco for that matter) and it was clear that the lack of one might have been the final straw and caused his tiny, no doubt second hand, brain to finally throw in the towel. He stood there spluttering for a while, clearly trying to think of something to say, before Draco had had enough of looking at his petulant face.

"You heard her Weasley, run along now." He made a shooing motion with his hands, but still Weasley would not budge. He was at the point of considering whether or not to get out his wand and levitate the moron back to his seat, when thankfully, Snape intervened.

"Weasley, back to your seat immediately. This is potions, not divination, I expect you to focus in my class."

Weasley sent one last glower to he and Granger before disappearing back over to his table.

Silence fell for a few moments on their table. Draco studied Granger, who was looking down at her hands, chewing rather furiously on her lip, before finally looking up at him. "Thank you. For not saying anything, I mean. You didn't have to do that, so, um, thanks."

She turned around briskly, and headed over to the supply table to begin gathering ingredients.

What the fuck just happened? Granger didn't correct Weasley when he practically accused her of slutting it up with him, and then thanked him for not exposing her lie? Why?

And then it struck him. Weasley must have gotten with somebody! Come to think of it, he remembered Pansy telling him that Weasley was practically all that Lavender Brown bint could talk about. After an hour of being partnered with the Gryffindor in herbology, Pansy could tell Draco his star sign, favourite colour, favourite quidditch team and almost everything else about him. Draco, of course, had cast a silencing charm on Pansy before any of this information could be divulged, which she wasn't too happy about. They must have gotten together last night! It explained why Granger was so furious with him, why she was willing to sit with Draco instead of him and Potter, and why she was even willing to let him believe that she was getting with her sworn enemy in the hopes it would make him jealous! Ok, maybe sworn enemy was a bit much, but they were definitely not friends.

A smirk came over his face as he realised that he could most certainly use this to his advantage.

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Please review!


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 

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How dare he! How dare Ronald Weasley of all people accuse her of something like that! She was absolutely seething by the time she made it to the supply cupboard – being forced to thank Draco Malfoy of all people hadn’t exactly helped matters either, but she felt it was simply the right thing to do after he lied for her, or at least omitted from telling the truth.

Resisting the urge to slap herself in the forehead (with an armful of boomslang skin it probably wasn’t a brilliant idea) she inwardly cursed herself. Why had she done that? Now, knowing Ron, he would immediately rush to Lavender and tell her _all about_ the head girl’s escapades, and, knowing Lavender (which, after sharing a dormitory with her for 6 years, unfortunately Hermione did) by lunch the entire school would be buzzing. Why couldn’t she have just held her tongue!

_Because that’s what she wanted. Because she wanted the entire school to think that not only was she over Ron, but that she wasn’t the boring, stuffy know it all they’d come to think she was._

No. That was ridiculous. It was a simple slip up. And besides, the way the Hogwarts rumour mill worked, this would be over by lunch, and the only people whose opinions Hermione valued wouldn’t be stupid enough to believe this anyway.

She set down the ingredients besides Malfoy and started to get to work. She was just cutting up her third lacewing fly and trying hard not to acknowledge either Malfoy or Ron, when the former leaned slightly closer to her and started talking.

“Mind telling me what that was about, Granger? I usually like to know exactly why I’m lying for someone before I jump into the deep end.”

Hermione raised her eyes steadily to meet his. “It wasn’t about anything, Malfoy, ok? I’ve already thanked you for covering for me, and I really see no need for any further discussion of the topic. Now, if you don’t mind, _I’m_ going to get back to completing _our_ assignment.”

“Yeah, you do that…” he muttered distractedly. She rolled her eyes and huffed, before returning her attentions to her lacewings. Silence fell over their workspace, for which Hermione was thankful. She was just about to place the lacewings into the cauldron when Malfoy spoke again. 

“Thing is though, Granger, if it really wasn’t about anything, you wouldn’t have said anything. You wouldn’t have lied. Wouldn’t have told the one lie that you knew would aggravate Weasley beyond measure, and you most certainly wouldn’t have dragged me into it.” 

She continued to add in the flies to the cauldron, pretending not to hear Malfoy at all now, although there was certainly a sense of stiffness about her now that was not there minutes prior.

“Allow me to make a guess.”

She glanced up at him again now, and could feel (for what felt like the umpteenth time that day) a growing sense of annoyance.

“You’re angry with Weasel. But why? What could he have possibly have done for you to be so angry that you would be willing to try and make him jealous by using me, of all people. Of course, there’s that small matter of you being hopelessly in love with him, although I doubt that he spurned your advances, the idiot’s probably got his head too far up his own ass to even notice…”

“I am not-“ she began indignantly. 

He cut her off, “Oh of course you are Granger. At this point you’re only lying to yourself.” He rolled his eyes. “Anyway, my point is, Weasley got with someone – that much is obvious. The question is, who?”

Hermione glared fiercely at Malfoy, silently daring him to stop. He clearly didn’t get the message. 

“Well, it definitely would have been a Gryffindor, no other house would sink themselves so low – not even a Hufflepuff. So, who does that leave… Dunbar? Pavarti?” He paused, long enough for a smirk to come over his face, “Brown?” 

Hermione’s jaw clenched.

“Ah, so Brown it is…” 

“It’s really none of your business, Malfoy.” She snapped harshly.

“Think again, Granger. You made me lie for you. Now it’s my business.”

The rest of the lesson passed in relative silence, with Hermione really not wanting to discuss matters with Malfoy. Thankfully, he didn’t press it further, but for some reason that only served to fill her with a sense of dread and foreboding. Surely, now that he knew why she was so angry, he would tell all of his Slytherin henchmen, and they would use the information to make her feel far worse about the situation than she already did. Or, worse, he would tell Ron that she was trying to make him jealous because she secretly fancied him. 

She couldn’t let that happen. So, she spent the remaining 35 minutes of the lesson on her best behaviour. Only talking to Malfoy when absolutely necessary. She would confront him later on in their dorm room, and, if needs be, beg him to not let the rest of the world know of her secret feelings – as repugnant as that idea might seem.

By the time lunch rolled around, Hermione was famished. Her stomach felt like it was trying to eat itself in the absence of anything else, and the state of the great hall table was not helping matters. She was early to lunch, which meant great expanses of completely fresh, untouched food. She cursed under her breath and made her way to her usual seat. She knew she had to make an appearance, at least. Maybe she could just hang around long enough for someone to arrive, so she could tell them that she was going to the library. She would need to have looked like she’d eaten though. The table was full of potential disasters, dishes full of enough calories to feed the entire first year, and Hermione was so hungry that she wanted each one more than the last. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed a spoonful of rice and some chicken, and started to spread them around her plate.

 It still didn’t look like she’d eaten anything at all, so, looking carefully around her, she took out her wand and hid it under the table.

 “Evanesco,” she whispered, and watched as the majority of her food disappeared from her plate. She was admiring her work just as Ginny walked through the door. Hermione waved her over, excited to have a chance to catch up with her best friend.

 “Hermione!” Ginny greeted, sitting down next to her. “I’ve been starting to think you were avoiding me!” 

“I’m sorry I haven’t had a free moment to make a trip to the common room yet! I’ve really been meaning to, I just haven’t had a moment to even breath, let alone-“ 

“Calm down, Hermione, I was kidding,” She said with a smile. “And that reminds me! You have to tell me absolutely everything about life with the king of snakes… What’s it like? Is he horrible? Have you seen him shirtless yet?”

“Ginny!” Hermione chided. “Honestly, he hasn’t been _that_ bad so far. I mean, obviously, we haven’t been getting on spectacularly – hell would have to freeze over for something like that to happen – but he hasn’t been as bad as I was expecting. Who knows, maybe he’s just trying to get through the year as smoothly as possible. God knows I am. And no, Ginny, before you ask again, I haven’t seen him without a shirt on.”

“Well, don’t lose hope, I’m sure it will happen sooner or later…”

Hermione laughed and shook her head. She could always count on Ginny to lighten the mood. “I’m not holding my breath…” she muttered.

Ginny laughed, and then helped herself to a heaping spoon of mashed potato onto her plate. Hermione took this as her que to leave. “Hey, look, Gin, I’ve got to run. If I don’t get to the library and finish my potions essay before this evening I’ll never get it done. See you later, ok?”

 “Hermione, It’s only the second day of school!”

“Yeah, well, you know what they say…” She said, standing up and grabbing her bag, “no rest for the wicked.” With that, she turned around and walked out of the hall. 

By the time she had gotten to the library, Hermione’s bag felt heavier than ever. Honestly, if she didn’t sit down pretty soon, she thought she might just collapse. 

This was normal though. As far as she could remember, the last time Hermione had fasted this long she’d felt the same. She just needed to sit down, and she would be fine.

She made her way to her favourite seat – right at the very back corner, next to the window, and shrouded but bookshelves. Her personal heaven. She couldn’t wait to just curl up next to the window and watch the black squid floating around – maybe take a nap if she got all her work done.

And, almost as if on que, she rounded the corner to see none other than `Draco Malfoy in her seat.

She sighed and looked up at the ceiling, hoping for some patience, at least. For Merlin’s sake could that boy not let her be for 5 minutes! She was really in no state to be withstanding this sort of nonsense.

“To what do I owe this displeasure, Granger?” He drawled, leaning back against the window. He didn’t have any books out in front of him! He was purely there to irritate her! Didn’t he have anything better to do? 

“You’re in my seat, Malfoy.” She all but growled.

“You know, it’s weird Granger. I’m getting some pretty strong Deja Vu feelings…” He said, still with that almost unshakable air of disinterest that he seemed to have mastered.

“So that’s what this is about. Do you realise how immature you’re being, Malfoy?

“If I was in somebody’s debt, Granger, I would be a lot more careful than you’re being at the moment…” he smirked.

“For fucks sake Malfoy!-“ 

“Language, Granger…” he mocked her. She continued on as though she hadn’t heard him.

“It was one small lie! I’m sure you’ve done much worse for less.” She snapped, pulling out the chair furthest from him and sitting down, grateful to be able to rest.

“You’re just not getting it into that thick skull of yours, Granger. Until you pay me back, I own you.”

If there was ever away to get under Hermione’s skin, that was it. She was no one’s property, and she would damn well make sure he knew that.

“You listen here, Malfoy.” She said, forcing herself up from her seat. “You do not-“

All of a sudden, the room went pitch black, and the sound of rushing blood was all Hermione could hear. Oh dear God no. Now was not the time for this to be happening. It was too soon! It had only been, what, 36 hours? Ok, so sure, she’d been heavily restricting in the days leading up to her fast. All told - she’d probably had around 1000 calories in the last 5 days. But now was _really_ not the time. She leaned back against a bookshelf to try to steady herself, but it wasn’t quite working. She felt her knees buckle beneath her and braced herself for impact. She was quite happy to discover that the library floor was much more comfortable than she had assumed it would be. Perhaps this wouldn’t be such a terrible place to rest her eyes – potions essay be damned… 

* * *

 

“Granger? Granger what in merlin’s name are you playing at!” He whispered, careful not to raise his voice and attract attention. Salazar knows how this looked. He was in an empty, secluded corner with an unconscious Gryffindor in his arms. He should have just let her fall to the ground and walked away.

He should have done a lot of things. 

Carefully, he lifted Granger up and put her in her seat. He knew he should take her to the hospital wing, but he couldn’t just walk past the fucking librarian with the golden girl passed out in his arms! If the entire school didn’t think he was evil before… 

What the fuck was he supposed to do! Should he just leave her there? Could he? In the meantime, he resigned himself to simply pacing up and down until she gave some sort of hint that she was ok. 

Draco had been keeping watch, to make sure nobody stumbled upon his ‘predicament’ for what felt like a small fucking eternity, when finally, there was a small sound from the corner of the room. 

“what the…” she muttered, looking around, seemingly disoriented. “what happened…”

“Wouldn’t I fucking like to know.” Draco said sharply, almost smirking when he made Granger jump.

“How did I…” she said, looking around as though realising where she was for the first time. “I’m in my chair… You-“ A panicked look came across her face. “You- you didn’t tell anyone, did you?”

“No Granger. I’m not trying to get expelled this soon into the year.”

“Why would you-“ She looked confused, before shaking her head suddenly. “I have to go… I have to get out of here.” She stood up suddenly. Too suddenly. Before he knew it, Draco was holding her up by the elbow.

Startled, she met his eyes, careful to keep his unreadable. In hers, he saw everything from confusion to fear.

“Don’t tell, please.” She whispered, before tearing her arm from his grip, and bolting from the room.

As he stood there, still trying to wrap his head around what had just happened, Draco realised something. This put her two times in his debt. But for some reason, the sense of thrill he’d felt about having something over her mere hours before had now entirely vanished, and had been replaced by a deep sense of curiosity, and an almost overwhelming feeling of frustration about not knowing exactly what was going on.

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Please review!! 


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Hermione was more than relieved to see that she arrived back at the common room first. The last two lessons she had been rendered utterly unable to focus due to her growing paranoia that Malfoy would figure out that something was amiss with her and tell the whole school. The last thing she wanted to do right now was see him. He would, undoubtedly, be asking questions that she had absolutely no intention of answering, and so with that thought in mind, she headed straight to her room, shutting the door behind her.

She settled down at her desk and pulled some parchment out her draw, deciding to make a start on some of the already intimidating amount of homework she had been set. Halfway through her potions essay, Hermione felt her arm getting heavier and heavier, and her eyelids starting to close themselves. This was the most inconvenient of the side effects to her new diet, and something had to be done about it soon, or she would never be able to get anything done.

She had tried caffeine pills before, and knew that they were at least somewhat effective, but the fact remained that she hadn't brought any with her to school, overlooking just how tired she would get. She just needed to be able to stay awake! There must have been someone she could ask, someone who would help her out, no questions asked, and who wouldn't tell anyone else.

And then it hit her – her solution, or solutions, as the case might be, Fred and George Weasley!

They would most certainly help her out, and she knew for a fact that they would never even think of ratting her out, it went against everything they stood for. She excitedly reached for a new piece of parchment and began her letter.

_Dear Fred and George,_

_How are you both? It was lovely bumping into you in Diagon Alley the other day, and I'm glad to see that the shop is doing well, judging from the amount of puking pastels I had to confiscate today, you must be making a fortune! I'm sorry to put it so bluntly, but I'm afraid I have a favour to ask of you. I'm already absolutely exhausted with all the classes that I signed up for this term, and I can barely stay awake in lessons with how late I have to stay up doing homework. I was hoping that you two might have something that would help keep me awake? I would be enormously grateful, and would even consider being a touch less militant with the confiscation of your products (although no promises). Again, I'm sorry to ask this of you in a letter, but you're my only hope of getting through this year and remaining conscious. If you can't help me I entirely understand, this is perhaps a bit of a strange request…_

_Best regards,_

_Hermione._

_P.S. please don't tell Ronald about this, he's already certain I've bitten off more than I can chew and I can't bear to let him think he's right!_

Hermione sat back and looked over her work. It didn't seem too suspicious, and, despite the guilt she felt at lying to the twins, felt excitement swell within her as she put it in the envelope. If this worked she would have the perfect solution to her problems, and would be able to get even more work done than she had in any previous years! She got up from her desk, blinking away the black spots that were appearing in her vision and that she was becoming well accustomed to, and went downstairs. She had just reached the portrait when a voice behind her made her jump out of her skin.

"So, you're still alive then," Malfoy's signature drawl washed over her. She considered just carrying on through the portrait, but that would make it seem that she was avoiding him (which she was), and that she was trying to hide something from him (which she was). Sighing, she turned around to face him.

He was sprawled on the sofa with a book in hand, radiating an elegance she was sure he must have taken lessons to acquire.

"Clearly." She replied curtly, "Now, if you don't mind, as much as I would love to stay and chat, I have places to be." She gestured towards the letter she was holding.

Suddenly the letter flew from her hand and into Malfoys. He set down the wand she hadn't even realised he was holding, and looked at the letter with a curious expression, which soon turned to disgust. "Is one Weasley not enough for you then? I mean I knew your standards were low, Granger, but this is a new level of disparity, even for you."

"Oh, fuck you, Malfoy. Just give me back my letter. I'm tired and I really don't have the patience for you right now."

"Touchy touchy, Granger." He said, with a smirk, "Careful, don't overexert yourself, if you faint again, I won't catch you this time."

Wait, he'd caught her? How had she missed that? She felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment as she thought about how Malfoy must have struggled with her weight, despite the athletic physique quidditch had no doubt gifted him. She didn't know what to say, which was a rarity for her. "I, um, didn't know…" she muttered, "thanks, I guess, that was good of you." Her cheeks felt as though they were on fire, and she sincerely hoped they weren't as red as she feared.

Malfoy scoffed. "Please, Granger, I didn't do it for you. It wouldn't really bode well for me to leave you passed out on the floor in the library. I don't think that sort of thing would look very good in the eyes of, well, anyone."

She ignored the blow that inexplicably came with his words and carried on, 'right, of course. Look, Malfoy, can I just have my letter back please? I have things to be getting on with, as I'm sure you do as well."

"Oh, you mean this?" he said, holding it in the air, "I'm afraid you can't have it back until you tell me what exactly happened earlier today, and please spare me the bullshit Granger, you're right, I do have things to do that are of far greater importance than having a conversation with you."

Fuck. "Nothing happened, Malfoy. I just got a bit lightheaded, that's all." She stared at him firmly as his eyes roamed her face, clearly searching for a clue as to whether or not she was telling the truth, when suddenly Hermione's mind was flooded with a jumbled mix of memories.

_Her, Harry and Ron laughing together at the three broomsticks._

_Hermione, Harry and Ron discussing their plans at Grimmauld Place._

_Stepping on her mother's bathroom scales._

_Malfoy Manor._

No… This had to stop! Malfoy must be in her head, but she had no idea how to get him out!

_Bellatrix looming over her, cackling wildly._

Hermione clutched at her head, as though her arms would somehow be able to block whatever Malfoy was doing.

_Pain. Unimaginable pain. Bellatrix standing back, grinning, admiring her handiwork._

Hermione had sunken to the floor and tears were now falling rapidly from her eyes. "Stop it! Stop it Malfoy, please! Get out of my head! Please, please stop!"

Just as quickly as it had been obscured, her vision cleared. Malfoy was staring at her with wide eyes, breathing heavily. Hermione was unable to control the flow of tears. She had done everything possible to avoid thinking about what had happened to her, and she had just been forced to relive it. Normally she wouldn't have been able to bear Malfoy seeing her so weak, but she couldn't control herself. Her hands were still clutching her head, as though they were the only things keeping Malfoy out.

He started slowly towards her, "Granger, I-"

Hermione jumped to her feet instantly, backing as far away from Malfoy as space would allow. "Don't you dare come near me," she spat. When he didn't stop, she pulled her wand from her back pocket and pointed it shakily at him, "Stay right fucking there!"

This time he did stop. He was looking at her strangely, as though he was worried she might shatter if he did the wrong thing, "Granger, look, I'm sorry, Ok? I didn't mean to-"

"You didn't mean to?" she said, laughing slightly, and wiping at the still constant stream of tears with her free hand, "You didn't mean to what, Malfoy? Use legilimency on me? Make me go through that again? What, was watching it once not enough for you? Had to get a second look at the mudblood bleeding out on the floor and screaming in pain, right?" She had to get out of there. She had to be as far away from Malfoy as possible. "Stay fucking there." She almost growled, wand still pointing straight at him. She quickly turned and fled the room through the portrait hole.

She had barely made it halfway down the corridor when she heard Malfoy shout from behind her, "Granger, wait, please!"

She stopped for a second and turned around. Malfoy was staring in the doorway, and if she didn't know better, she would say that he looked almost genuinely concerned. He ran his hand through his hair and cursed before making eye contact with her. "Granger, please, I'm sorry, ok? Just come back inside."

She stood there for a moment. He seemed genuinely sincere, but he was a Malfoy. He'd stood in that room and watched her as she was tortured by _his aunt_. She moved her hand to her left forearm, and shivered when she remembered that Malfoy's was scarred too, only with a design of his choosing. A scar he'd spent his whole life preparing for. She shook her head as her eyes spilled over once more, and took off at a run down the corridor.

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Sorry this was such a short chapter! and also sorry I haven't updated in a while, I have exams at the moment and I've barely had a minute to myself! I hope you enjoyed this chapter all the same, though. Please leave a review letting me know if you liked it! (they really make my day guys you have no idea) Thank you for reading!


	10. Chapter 9

A/N : Hey everyone, sorry for the super long wait again, I actually finished this chapter a couple weeks ago but forgot to save it and the whole thing was lost, and I just honestly could not be bothered to rewrite it out again. It actually has ended up pretty different this time (I think for the worst), but I guess we'll see how it turns out lol. Anyway, hope you enjoy, and please leave a review to tell me what you thought!

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Draco was so immersed in what it was he was seeing that it took a moment for him to register her screams, and to distinguish between what was real and what was a memory. The moment he understood what was going on, he withdrew from her mind. He stared at her with wide eyes, the only sounds filling the room Granger’s sniffs and his harsh breaths. He couldn’t believe what he’d just seen. And to think, he’d had the nerve to think that he’d had it rough having to watch. He’d felt what she had felt, he’d felt the pain as Bellatrix carved into her arm, as she had the cruciatus curse inflicted on her again and again. He’d experienced a heavily subdued version of this pain, of course – it was a minuscule fraction of what Granger would have felt, but still… It was enough.

Granger was sitting against the portrait hole, her knees brought up in front of her chest, and tears streaming heavily down her face. Fuck. He had been so focused on what he was seeing that he didn’t even stop to think that she would be forced to re-live it too. He hadn’t even been looking for that memory! Come to think of it he was surprised at how close to the forefront of Granger’s mind it was – he had only sifted through a few memories before he stumbled on it. He supposed that that must be a harder memory to supress. Merlin knows he would have trouble forgetting what he’d just experienced, and he wasn’t even the one it had happened to. 

He started towards her, “Granger, I-“ 

All of a sudden, she jumped to her feet, and backed as far away from him as the limited space would allow, “Don’t you dare come near me.” She said, her voice laced with venom, though shaking slightly. Draco didn’t stop. He knew that this was all his fault, and somehow, he had to fix it. As entirely un-Slytherin of him as it was, and as much as he would beat himself up later for even thinking it, at that moment, all he wanted to do was comfort Granger and make things right. He wanted to make up for what _his family_ had done to her. Not the Dark Lord, or Greyback, or any other death eaters, it has been _his family. His_ flesh and blood who had done that to her, who had left her writing in pain and bleeding out, who had scarred her forever. He felt as though he had to at least attempt to make that better somehow.

Granger drew her wand and pointed it at him, shaking slightly as she did so. “Stay right fucking there!” she commanded, and Draco stopped in his tracks. He didn’t want to make this worse for himself or her, for that matter. He had been the cause of enough of her strife to last a lifetime. 

It was then - with her wand out, tears running down her face, and conviction in her voice – that Draco knew he was seeing her at her most raw. He doubted anyone had ever seen Granger so unpolished, not even Potter and Weasley. It was obvious that she felt she had to maintain some sort of professionalism whilst at school, not to lose her temper or her control, as if she was constantly fighting against something. As if she was constantly fighting against people thinking she wasn’t good enough due to factors outside her control. As if she was trying to prove herself. Draco hadn’t felt quite so much guilt in a very long time. He wanted to apologise and say he was wrong, and that no one should have had to go through what she did – but he couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t. She wouldn’t believe him anyway.

 “Granger, look, I’m sorry, Ok? I didn’t mean to-“

“You didn’t mean to?” she said, a sinister smile now appearing across her face, “You didn’t mean to what, Malfoy? Use legilimency on me? Make me go through that again? What, was watching it once not enough for you? Had to get a second look at the mudblood bleeding out on the floor and screaming in pain, right?”

He wanted so desperately to tell her she was wrong about him, that he had changed, but how could he ever expect him to believe her when just a day ago he had been calling her a mudblood? It was more a force of habit to him at this point, a quick and easy way of getting at Granger. He very rarely payed attention to the actual meaning of the word, he hadn’t for a while. But he had to do _something_ to make this better! “Stay fucking there.” She snarled at him. She shot him one last look, a mixture of pain, shock, fear and loathing, before turning and fleeing through the portrait hole. 

When the portrait slammed shut behind her, Draco stood in silence for a moment or two, trying to process what had just happened. An unbelievable anger was coursing through his veins. Anger at his family, at the war, The Dark Lord, and mostly himself. “FUCK!” He screamed, allowing his fist to connect with the wall as he did so. The shock of pain that reverberated through his knuckles brought him back to reality, and the situation at hand. He had to go after her. He couldn’t just let her roam the castle like this – she was liable to do anything, especially something that would jeopardise his position at Hogwarts.

“Granger, wait, please!” He called after her, once he had opened the portrait. She halted in her tracks and turned slowly around to face him. Her face was blank and devoid almost entirely of emotion, but she couldn’t quite hide the pain in her eyes. It almost reminded him of himself. He ran his hand through his hair, cursing quietly as stab of pain shot through it. He would have to go to Madame Pomfrey tomorrow. “Granger, please, I’m sorry, ok? Just come back inside.” She looked at him curiously, as though she was trying to uncover his agenda. For a second, it had seemed like she believed him, like she was going to come back inside. Then her right hand moved to her left forearm, and Draco didn’t have to use legilimency to see what she was thinking. How could she ever trust a Death Eater who had allowed his family to do what they did to her. Her answer was clear long before she moved. She couldn’t, and she would never be able to.

Draco stared after her quickly disappearing form and considered all of his options. Should he go after her? How would she react? Maybe he should just let her cool down and hope that she didn’t go to Potter and Weasley. When she inevitably did, he would just act cool and detached, and deny all involvement. They wouldn’t believe him, of course, but they would have no proof of his involvement. He just hoped that he wouldn’t be forced to duel either one of them. With McGonagall paying such close attention to him, he really couldn’t afford to be fighting her star pupils in the corridors.

He sighed and made his way back into the common room, settling himself into the sofa for what he knew would be a long night as he waited for her return, not noticing Granger’s letter as it slowly crept out of the room. 

* * *

 

By the time she made it to the owlery, Hermione had managed to calm herself down enough that she no longer had a burning desire to turn Malfoy back into a ferret and set him free in the forbidden forest, and that was about as much progress as she could see herself making any time soon.

She had considered going straight to Gryffindor tower and telling Harry and Ron about what happened, but she quickly thought better of it when she realised what idiotic and rash things Harry would do, and remembered that she was angry with Ron. She sighed, feeling more alone than she had in a while, and decided that she might as well finish what she had set out to do earlier that day and mail her letter to Fred and George. She would likely need whatever they could come up with a lot more now with the all the nightmares she was sure to be getting.

She stopped briefly by Hedwig on her way to the school owls, who cooed softly at her by way of greeting. Hermione had wanted an owl for a while now, she loved Crookshanks, but she had to admit owls were far more useful creatures. Still, the school owls were fine for delivering mail - if not a bit slow. She attached her letter to the nearest owl, being sure to repeat the address a few times, just in case, and gave him a treat to show her thanks. He hooted in acknowledgement and flew swiftly through the window. Instead of going back to her dorm, Hermione decided to sit up there for a few minutes – it was a good place to sit and think things over.

 

She hadn’t been prepared for what had happened earlier. Malfoy had violently unearthed something she’d spent months burying, and she knew that the repercussions would be vast. She pulled back her sleeve and ran her hand over her arm. The scar was still raised and angry, it was almost as ugly as the sentiment it represented. It made her sick to even look at it. With those scrawled letters came an onslaught of memories that had the power to render her a complete wreck, and now they were whirring around in her mind with fervour.

She shouldn’t have been surprised that Malfoy had done this to her, she knew who he was and what he was capable of, but for some reason… Maybe it was because he had been almost civil to her before, or maybe she was just an idiot. Either way, what had happened earlier was a valuable reminder that that boy was out for no one but himself.

She didn’t know how much time had passed before she decided to head back. She crept through the portrait hole as quietly as possible, and was surprised to see Malfoy asleep on the sofa, no doubt waiting for his opportunity to attack her further. She managed to make it up to her room without waking him, and quickly got changed for what she knew would be one of the worst night’s sleep of her life. She was not disappointed.

When she awoke at four in the morning, panting and drenched with sweat, she knew that going back to sleep was not an option. Instead, she decided on a cold, refreshing shower, in hopes that it would help her shake the remnants of her dream. She had dreamt that she was back in Malfoy Manor, of course, only this time Bellatrix’s face would occasionally morph into those of some of her closest friends and enemies, including but not limited to: Ron, Ginny, Umbridge and Malfoy.

The water was ice cold and chilled Hermione to her bones, but she was grateful for the shock, as it forced her mind back to the present. She remembered reading somewhere that cold water showers and baths were supposedly good for weight loss, which gave her the motivation to stay in there until her lips started to turn blue. When she stepped out of the shower, she took a moment to inspect her naked reflection – assess the damage, as it were. She was pleased to see that her stomach looked a little less bloated than it had done the last time she’d checked, and if she tilted her hips in a certain way, her thighs no longer touched. But once her attention was drawn to her arms she felt significantly less joyous. They looked even bigger than before! And on second look her stomach looked appalling too, not to mention her hips… She sighed in frustration at the realisation that she would have to break her fast today and contribute to the disgusting state of affairs that was her body. Her physical state was starting to rival her mental, and that was saying something. She was so exhausted she felt like a strong breeze might be enough to make her collapse.

Suddenly, Hermione was immensely thankful that she had woken up at an ungodly hour, and would be able to eat in privacy. She hated the thought of Malfoy walking into the kitchen and seeing her stuffing her face like a pig. He already had more than enough ammunition when it came to her, especially after last night… How could she have let herself be so vulnerable in front of him? He’d seen her cry for Merlin’s sake. There was no coming back from that. She worked so hard to make him think that he had no power over her anymore and then she gave him exactly what he wanted! Well, she certainly wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

After she got dressed and dried her hair quickly with a spell, Hermione slowly, and very quietly, made her way down the stairs to the kitchen. She was hungry enough by now that she could eat every fucking thing in the room, but she knew the rules of the game by now. She had to go slowly or it would end up as a binge and she would hate herself for the rest of the week. She combed through the cupboard for something relatively low calorie. The closest she came was some wholemeal bread. If she remembered correctly, it was roughly 70 calories per slice. She pulled out two pieces and place them under the grill, not immediately seeing a toaster and frankly far too tired to look for one. She spread a thin layer of butter on each slice, bringing her total calorie count to somewhere around 200.

She stared at her food for a few minutes, considering the full implications of ending her fast, before finally taking a bite. Hunger immediately consumed her and before she knew it she was taking bite after bite without even allowing herself time to breathe. She somehow felt she was even hungrier than before now. Thankfully, her mind suddenly flickered back to the sight of her in the mirror that morning, serving as a perfect reminder of why she would have to wait until lunch for something to eat. A limit of 600 calories seemed about right for the day. Enough for her to function but hopefully not enough for her to gain.

She sat in the kitchen for a few more hours, working on some essays from the day before (what with Malfoy’s interruption yesterday, she hadn’t had the chance to finish them when she had planned to). Hermione had just finished her final essay and had started on some extra reading when she heard Malfoy stirring in his room above and, taking it as her cue to leave, quickly gathered her things and made a quick exit for the Gryffindor common room. She may not have been on great terms with Ron, but Harry and Ginny were still her friends, and she knew without a doubt that they were just the company she needed to help her try and feel better about, well, everything.


End file.
